


Cracks Begin to Show

by Colorhersunshine



Category: The Last of Us
Genre: Drama, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-12 14:40:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9076978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colorhersunshine/pseuds/Colorhersunshine
Summary: "Well you know what they say, don't wound what you can't kill.""It's the third wound in two months. Hold this."





	1. Neck and Neck

He looked into her intense green eyes as they squinted in concentration. Over the years of them being together, her touch had gone from gentle to merciless but he’d known better than to complain.

She poured alcohol onto a rag and pressed it up to the wound. No matter how many times he’d gone through this, it always stung. Knife wounds stung more than bullet wounds did, but that was because the pain of having bullet dug out and the wound burned shut overrode everything else about the process. Still, he let out an involuntary hiss.

“Sorry,” she offered unconvincingly. He thought nothing of it, this was all routine by now.

“So...stab wound to the neck. These rival groups are getting better and better at cutting you up,” She chided.

“Well, you know what they say, don’t wound what you can’t kill.” He replied.

“It’s the third wound in two months. They’re taking turns. Hold this.” She doesn’t ask, she commands.

He watched her burn the needle until it glowed bright red and when it cooled, she threaded it. She motioned to him to let go of the wound, and before his hand could even rest on the table, she’d already begun to poke through for the first stitch.

By the time she’d made the fourth stitch, he’d been given one more reason to be thankful it was a smaller knife that did it. A larger knife would have killed him no doubt, but on the off chance of his survival, it was her stitching that would have finished him off.

With that thought, she tied the last stitch and cut it.

“You can clean up. Good night.” She already began to trail into her quarters of the house.

“Come on, now, Ellie--” he was cut off by the time she slammed her door.

He knocked at her door, and even though she didn’t grant him permission, he opened it anyways.

She was laying on her bed, her back to him.

“I didn’t say you could come in.”

His neck stung something else, but the pang of guilt was worse.

“I’m sorry.” He offered, not knowing much else to say.

She rolled over, finally looking at him. 

“Do you even know what you’re sorry for?”

He knew better than to lie to her. He’d done it once and regretted it ever since. He knew she could see right through it every time and it was the convenience of not having to explain himself to her.

“No. I reckon I don’t.” he admitted.

“Do you remember asking me if I even cared about what my life meant?”

He remained silent, finally piecing together why she was so mad. 

“I thought...I thought we gave each other’s lives some meaning. But I guess not. You keep volunteering to go outside the wall to fight these people and each time you do, I worry. If you die, I lose my best friend. I lose you playing the guitar on Sundays. I lose the only fucking person who will talk to me here because everyone sees me as infected. And fuck, I lose the love of my life AGAIN.”

He couldn’t even begin to explain himself due to that last part. He knew that he was pretty much her world, and a part of him was still selfish which showed since he always went on these missions without even asking her how she felt. Did he still see her as a child? She obviously no longer saw him as just her caretaker.

His silence went on too long, something he didn’t become aware of until she sat up and grabbed her backpack and began to slide past him.

******  
She felt like a fucking idiot, laying all of her feelings out on the line like that. The intensity of the moment got to her, and her mouth was light years ahead of her brain. 

All of it was true, however. Joel was her everything and his risks made her feel like she wasn’t the same to him. He was her best friend in the way that he taught her about the things he liked. He was willing to learn about her comics and sat there probably bored out of his mind when she read the books she liked to him. Yet he never fell asleep on her and every so often when she’d peek over the book, she’d see him smiling--but once she caught him, it was gone.

On Sundays when his shift began in the afternoon, he’d sit in the kitchen during breakfast and play songs. Some were about love, some about revenge, and sometimes the mix of both and she could feel every note he played, wondering if he felt it too.

People here only talked to her out of necessity. She wasn’t allowed to work in the mess hall, and a few years back when she arrived, people tried their best to get her out. Maria implemented a rule that if anyone wanted to be anything less than hospitable, they could leave Jackson behind. While Maria had been trying to help her cause and make peace with other civilians, it didn’t make anyone like her, just tolerate her. Yet she had the only person who really mattered on her side.

All of these things combined made her fall in love with him, but when he left her like this, she always felt stupid. 

She remembered the exact moment she realized how she felt. It could be the simplest things that made you love somebody. It was a Sunday and they were making berry oatmeal for breakfast. She passed him the milk and his rough, calloused hand brushed her slightly smoother hand and he looked at her with a small smile on his face. It was a look, one look, and that was fucking it. 

But now she ruined it, like she had expected to. She’d packed a bag for in case the moment came and she was ready for it.

Yet as she went to step past him, his arm extended to block her way out and he moved over, making her step into him. He really was built like a fucking tank.

“Let me go.” Her voice was nothing but a mere whisper and she was on the brink of tears.

****  
He’d be a goddamn idiot to let her go. He’d been enough of one by leaving voluntarily so many times, and now here she was, trying to do the same but he couldn’t let her. He hated that it always happened like this. He made a choice for her once before, and he couldn’t say he regretted it. Even in this moment with her angry at him and wanting to leave, he was thankful they could have this moment.

Her words still swirling around in his head, he looked at her, really looked at her, seeing the woman she became and not the child she was. She was taller, her head at the level of his jaw. Her hair was longer and she pulled it back into a loose bun, letting the longer strands stick out underneath. It had gotten slightly more brown over the years but was still red enough to make her stand out. Those freckles were still there, those lovely freckles that danced around when she made a face. And her cheeks, the once puffy, youthful cheeks now smoothed out, which made her look serious most of the time. Where did the time go?

He had to think fast, his heart had actually begun to beat faster and he could see her eyes shift, she was going to leave whether he moved or not.

So he moved.


	2. Caged By Frail and Fragile Bars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Just...tell me why you keep going out there."

She was stiff as a board for the first two seconds. Of all the things she was expecting to happen, this honestly wasn’t one of them. As soon as her brain got on board with her mouth and her heart, she began responding to him.

He tasted like the swig of alcohol he took before she began her handiwork. It was bitter, something she couldn’t imagine drinking of her own volition, but the taste was attached to him. For some reason that made it better. 

 

She could also feel the roughness of his chapped lip, split from probably taking a punch to the face. His beard lightly pricked her face, and it tickled, but she didn’t laugh. 

She was walking back, taking him with her to the bed.

“Ellie, what--”  
“Shut up.”

She took off her backpack and tossed it to the side, staring him down. She saw his expression change from confusion to complacent and even though she had never done something like this before, she wasn’t going to let that stop her. For once, she was the one in control. No one was telling her to do this.

“Lay down.”

He did as he was told, waiting to see where else this was going. 

****

Joel had fallen asleep while Ellie stared at the ceiling. She expected to feel guilt about it, but she didn’t even feel that. 

His light snoring ceased and he rolled over in bed, throwing an arm over her and pulling her closer.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” He inquired, his voice still groggy.

“Nothing. Can’t sleep.” She lied.

“Anything I can do to help?” 

His eyes were now staring into hers, and she figured there was no use in holding back.

“Just...tell me why you keep going out there?”

****

He didn’t want to tell her the reason he kept going out there. The reason even scared him, and he didn’t know how to explain it. 

After moving to Jackson, the encounters with infected were slim if you stayed inside the wall. If you stayed inside the wall, encounters with outside groups was prevented by people who went out and fought. The first time it happened when they made Jackson their home, Joel stayed behind. 

But on the second time, he went because he was itching for it. The simple living had gotten to him, and missed it. That alone made him sick...he missed killing.

He didn’t like killing with a gun, that was for when you were losing. He liked to kill with knives, he liked to strangle, and most of all, he liked when his victim got to the point where they fucking begged and Joel let on like he was benevolent and would let them go. He’d nod sympathetically, and just when they got that hope in their eye...he’d extinguish it.

He knew if he told her, she’d never look at him the same. This was the girl who was willing to die to save the world. And she had fallen in love with a man who was ending it. She had come to terms with the fact that he’d robbed the world of the cure. But could she come to terms with the fact that he didn’t really kill to protect, that it had taken on new meaning?

He knew, however, that Ellie would catch him in a lie yet again. That trust would be broken and a surefire way to lose her forever. In between a rock and a hard place, he sat up in the bed.

“I go out...because I like killin’.”

****  
She felt herself cringe when he made the admission. Joel had been her protector. She watched him kill and helped him kill many times because it was out of necessity. He taught her not to think about who they were. 

Sometimes they’d overhear their conversations. They were real people who believed they were good. They were protecting themselves, but so were Ellie and Joel. She’d been getting good at treating it as “Us versus Them” but when she encountered David...that fell away.

“How long have you felt this way?” She implored, wanting to get away from where her train of thought was going. 

“A while, now. I think I’m good every time I do it. Like I’ll never need to do it again, but then I’m the first one gearing up to go.” He admits, looking away from her when he sees a hint of sadness.

“I just...worry about you. I’m going with you next time.”  
He shook his head, “Ellie, no.”

“So what? I stay at home, waiting for Maria to knock on my door to pay me condolences? We stick together.”

Joel pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing he’d lied because now she was at risk too.

Upon seeing him do this, she slowly approached him and kissed his temple.

“Thank you for being honest with me,” she said.

With that, she laid down to sleep, while Joel took his turn being restless.


End file.
